


VOICES

by Cwad



Series: Monsters [1]
Category: Cwads Monsters
Genre: Caz's little ghosts, Gen, Ghosts, May include murder later, Monsters, Some characters based of real people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cwad/pseuds/Cwad
Summary: Work in process. Will be edited.
Series: Monsters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605040
Kudos: 17





	1. Prolouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> x/xx/xxxx  
> XXXXXX Mental instatue.  
> Building X  
> Level X  
> Room XX  
> 12:28 pm

“.... You hear voices?”

“I think the problem is sir, that you cant hear them. Or see them.”

“See them? You see them?”

“Of course I do. I’d just be crazy if I couldn’t see them.”

The way Doc looked at Patient 723 made them….. uncomfortable. He looked at 723 as if they were dumb. No - not dumb. That was a different word. Crazy, maybe? Unstable? How were they to know - in 723’s opinion, they thought they were perfectly fine.  
But no one had ever really asked about their opinion.

Doc glanced from 723 to the iPad in his hands. Doc was a nice guy - they would give him that. But 723 only ever paid much attention to Doc’s - it was slightly plump, chubby even, with a couple of tiny scars littering it from patients who, according to B.B, a fellow patient, went Feral. Doc would always deny this, smiling with his shiny white teeth and his nice-looking green eyes. His eyes weren’t anything special, but they were a whole lot better than 723 boring looking ones. His neatly combed black hair would bounce along with the rest of his body when he laughed or giggled.   
The only time Doc wasn’t smiling was when 723 sessions got too……. irregular.   
‘I’ve seen and heard a lot of things.’ 723 had heard him say once. ‘But you… you surprise me.’

723 was about to start to wonder what he meant, but Doc’s voice dragged them out of their thoughts. 

“Youll have to go on some new medicine starting on th….... ”

The words came out muffled and fuzzy, in a way that made 723’s head spin, and a familiar headache slowly started to creep up, deep into their brain. 723 never told Doc about their headaches.   
They never told him about how bad the headaches made their head hurt.  
Or when his headache started to arrive, so did the spine-flaming, throat-chilling sensation that made him need to vomit.  
Or how the voices grew louder when the headaches rolled in.  
And, of course, 723 would certainly have never told Doc about how everything would fall apart.   
Everything would go black.  
Everything would go numb, and everything would feel like needles, and then… nothing.   
The headaches disappear a quickly as they arrived, and 723 suddenly realized that they had been holding eye contact with a very uncomfortable looking Doc. 

“R? Are you ok? You’ve been staring at me for about 3 minutes-” 

“I’m feeling just fine... When am I getting these meds again?”


	2. Orange.

“You can’t just…. just…. run away!”

Orange felt a bitter laugh slide past his lips, and resisted the urge to bite his tongue.   
“Just watch me - I’ve done it before, haven’t I?.”  
As Orange’s gaze flicked towards Capo, he could see the being narrow their eyes at him - all 14 of them stared at him with the regular expression of exasperation and a mild distaste. Orange could practically feel the dramatic sigh already building in their throat, and he could tell they already had an entire book written in their head about him and his ‘Simple-minded, half-witted, moronic schemes’, as Capo liked to call them.

Orange raised a long, boney finger, stopping them before they could speak.   
“Look,” Orange started the sentence off with a short pause, pretending to find the words that he had said various times. He didn’t need to remember - It was second nature to say this little speech of his.   
“We both know it’s for the best if I leave. Ya know, Vasiliás wouldn’t like to see my name on the list again - and besides! Me leaving would make it much easier for You, Rordon, Rey, Reine, Padrona, and the others to work on their respective Colonies and Sectors! They won’t even know I’m gone-”

Capo let out a small, yet noticeable scoff. “Bullshit. Last time you left, Vas has to send Reale after you - 3 of their Sectors almost fell onto Earth! We could have killed more than we need!!”

When he saw the anger and venom in Capo’s eyes, Orange could feel his grin widen. Their normally calm and gentle face was scrunched up so that Capo’s mouth was a lop-sided snarl of sorts. Their eyes were all narrowed, staring right at him - except for one that would glance around here and there, as if expecting a visitor of sorts. 

“Expecting someone to show up?” Orange asked, His voice suddenly changing to one of a serious nature. The sudden flinch from Capo told Orange all he needed to know - They had told someone about him leaving. Orange felt dread wash over him, but anger soon took over his emotions. Turning around, he started to slither towards the exit gates. Hearing the soft clicking of Capo’s claws against the ground made Orange move faster - He was going to run from Capo. And so, he did. Past the gates, Into the purple/blue haze, Capo’s loud yelling fading behind him as he slithered deeper into the haze.  
Orange had never run away from Capo before.  
It was a strange feeling, and Orange didn’t like the feeling.  
The more he thought about it - The more he realized the feeling wasn’t sadness, nor regret.  
It was fear.  
Because It wasn’t just going to be Capo after him.  
Vas was probably going to send everything he had.

Orange had a secret that he knew would make everything crumble beneath his feet.  
And he knew that Vas was going to kill him if he ever revealed this secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear:  
> An unpleasant feeling triggered by the perception of danger, real or imagined.


	3. Vincent

Vincent hated school.   
Maths, science, sports, English - it all sucked. Vin wished he could drop out, but his parents would pretty much kick him out of the house if they did, and he was pretty sure no one would let a homeless kid get a job in WackDonalds or Chicago-Made-Chicken.  
Well, he wasn’t ‘homeless’ homeless, but he hadn’t given anyone his address. Not once. And he sure wasn’t going to give it to a stranger, let alone a sketchy adult from Wackdonalds, who Vin had SEEN dealing drugs last Sunday to those senior kids from his school.

Vin didn't just hate school, but he hated the people in it. The teachers were rude and Snobby, the students were loud and dumb.   
Well, Millie and Joey were… Alright. He wouldn’t consider them to be friends, in his view, but acquaintances, maybe, but not full-on friends.   
Vin didn’t like making friends - too difficult to trust people. Ever since Kindergarten when Tommy Lee-Klimer stole Vins’ favorite stuffed animal, Vin refused to get close to people, and always say peoples’ flaws, zoning in on those.  
For example? Millie liked to pop gum any time she chewed it, and instead of getting good flavors, like Watermelon, or strawberry, She always got flavors that burnt his mouth - Peppermint, mainly.   
And Joey? Joey chewed with his mouth open. He laughed too loud. He kept trying to copy his math homework from Vincent. He was just so…. Annoying. 

Vinny was Snapped back to reality when he realized the bell rang, signaling the other 16-17-year-olds to pack up their bags and head to their next class. Shoving his books in his bag, from the corner of his eye he could see a Familiar Purple-haired male standing outside the doorway, making the small group around him cracking up laughing.   
The person Vin hated the most in this school, apart from himself, was Romello Sanchez. Though he had an exotic name, he spoke and looked exactly like an American. Green eyes and dyed hair, Romello’s good looks were complimented by high intelligence, and a big ego to match.   
Romello was the type of guy that teachers adored - He had good grades and did well in class.

Or, at the very least, he hadn’t done anything wrong that the teachers had seen with their own two eyes.  
For example, his weekly beatings behind the science block. Sometimes it was behind the music block, usually when Romellos girlfriend - Was her name Amanda? - was doing her song practice, which mainly consisted of her voice cracking every couple of lines. 

"Freakazoid, what are you looking at?"   
Vincents’ eyes snapped back into focus at the sound of the voice he heard so often, and he realized he was staring at a black skull and crossbones shirt.   
In that moment, as soon as Vins’ eyes met the dark green ones of Romello, Vin realized one thing.   
To put it simply?  
He…. was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bully, or, bullying  
> Seek to harm, intimidate, or coerce (someone perceived as vulnerable).


	4. Vincent.

If you told Vin he was going to be beaten up for no reason after his Economics class, for about half an hour straight, Vin… probably would have believed you.   
Trudging home, Vin wiped his bleeding nose with his wrist, feeling the blood smudge against his upper lip and on his boney arm. His head pounded with a masty headache, and his palms were scratched and sore from the gravel. He was expecting just a punch, and a kick or two, but Romello had really roughed him up today.   
Romellos words rung in his head. ‘Piece of shit - get up, or are you going to just lay there, and get high?’  
This made Vincent scowl, as he remembered this. Vincent was several things, but he wasn’t a smoker. Well, not of drugs, at least.  
Vin suddenly had to urge to Vomit, but he couldn’t place why - Was it the sudden chill in the core of his throat? The sudden enflamed feeling he had in his spine? The more he thought about it, Vin stumbled to the bushed nearby the pathway he was walking out and, with lack of better phrasing - Spilled his guts out. 

When Vin arrived home, he was sure that he looked - and smelt - absolutely disgusting. Pulling out the housekeys, he felt like he was going to throw up again - Once again, he felt his throat become cold, and his spine burn with heat - but, he managed to swallow it down, which just made Vin take a couple of deep breaths. Opening the door, he lazily kicked off his shoes and went to the bathroom. Of course, his parents weren’t home - His mom was still in Venice, and his father was probably out, going to go meet some of his friends and drink the night away.   
Well, at least it was Friday.

As soon as Vin saw himself in the bathroom, He held back a sneer.  
The blood Vin had smudged across his upper lip and nose had dried, making it look like he was dragged his upper lip in red dirt. Vin’s left cheek was slightly swollen, with the right side of his jaw was bruised. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the sink, running the cool water.  
Looking at the mirror, Vin examined himself. He has lightly tanned skin, with Brown eyes and brown hair. His mother had told him that the colors all blended beautifully together - But Vin didn’t feel the same. At least, not for a long time.   
Vin started picking at an old scab on his neck - He didn’t remember what caused it, to be exact. Maybe it was Romello, or just Vin doing something stupid again; It didn’t matter now though. Vin felt the blood start to slide down his neck before he saw it stained of his fingernail. Muttering in discomfort, he grabbed a face towel and dunked it into the cold water, rubbing his neck roughly, then flipping over the towel and giving the same treatment to his face.   
By the time he was done, Vins’ face was slightly red from the scrubbing. At this point, the scrubbing was instinct - He felt like he couldn’t go a single day without at least a pinch from Romello, or by accidentally closing his fingers on a door, or maybe stubbing his toe.   
But that was beside the point right now. Vincent looked at himself once more before turning away, trudging to his room. 

Vin flopped onto his bed, letting himself rest. He was exhausted as all hell, his pounding headache seeming to get worse. Rolling over so he was on his side, Vin decided that maybe, just maybe, He’d let himself sleep in his bloodied up singlet. He had dumped his Vomit drenched shirt in the bathtub before he left the bathroom, so, as for now, he didn’t have to deal with the stench.   
His eyes trailed to his alarm clock. 7:46 PM? Already? He had returned sometime around 4… Surely he hadn’t been so vain as to examine himself for almost 4 hours? Shutting his eyes, Vin sighed.

Vin wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep.  
He wasn’t sure when he had woken up, either.  
But as soon as he saw that one, single white pupil staring back at him…  
Vincent Munoz knew he was going to die if he screamed. So, Instead of Screaming, Vincent did the first thing he could think of. He reached out his side, grabbed his hockey trophy, and slammed it into the side of the creature’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare
> 
> A frightening or unpleasant dream.  
> A very unpleasant or frightening experience or prospect.


	5. Capo

‘Dear Vasilias.’

Capo squinted as they looked down at the paper, tapping the quill against their chin. They had never had to write to Vasilias before - not about something like this, at least. Oranges’ actions were nothing new, but this was the first time Capo had witnessed one of their friends’ escapes.   
Capo frowned at the word. Orange was escaping. Why would he have to escape? Otirik was a good place - Capo would dare go to say it was perfect.   
Taking a deep sigh, Capo went back to writing.

‘I regret that to inform you that Orange has escaped’

Capo stopped midsentence. There it was again. That word that brought a sick, ugly feeling to their stomach. With a simple flick of their wrist, the being pushed the paper off their desk and grabbed a new piece, putting the quill to the paper with a bit more force.

‘Dear Vasilias.’ 

The green-eyed being let out a huff, eyes flickering towards his door as theyheard it click open.   
“Mister Boss?” Capo eyed the being in front of them. It was purple, with one large, red-eye, with, instead of a pupil, like Orange, had a thin, yellow ‘X’. It had two small horns, with a lighter purple marking on its neck. Down where feet should have been, was nothing but a ghost-like wisp, which made Capo frown. They never liked those.   
Their eyes flickered up to the being again, who sheepishly started arranging the papers in their hands. 

“Sir? My name is Des, I live in building 13, level 7, room 2, I know I’m late, but I brought all my paperwork, And I think I’ve guided enough spirits to get a better room-”   
The idea shot itself into Capos’ mind before they could even process what the being in front of them said. Getting up from their chair, Capo held up a hand. “Yes, yes, Dee, was it?”  
The purple being shifted in her spot uncomfortably. “Des, actually.”  
Capo only waved their hand, taking the papers from the purple females’ hands. “Well, Dis, It seems you have at least one more soul to collect before you can relocate to an upper sector.” They said, tapping the papers. 

Capo almost felt guilty when they could practically feel the humiliation radiating off of the creature. Almost.   
“But, I suppose I could let you in. But you need to do something for me.” Capo said, walking back to their desk and putting away the papers. 

The hopeful voice of - Das, was it? - immediately piped up. “What is it, Sir?”  
Capo turned around to face - Dris? - , leaning against the desk, and almost felt regretful about what he was about to offer.

“Have you heard of the Duke, Orange?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> order  
> an authoritative command or instruction.


	6. Orange

Humans, to Orange, were pretty dumb. No, not dumb - Ignorant, Stupid, Slow. They were also so, so predictable.   
But he had to admit - Orange didn’t ever think he was going to be bludgeoned in the side of the head with a hockey trophy. 

Falling against the ground, he hissed in slight surprise - If he was in his human form, he would have been in immense, unbearable pain. He slowly forced himself to stand up correctly, his snake-like lower half coiling and forcing him up a bit higher then where he usually stood. Orange almost felt…. ashamed, when he lost his balance for a moment, having to grab onto the windowsill. His head was pounding, a ringing echoing throughout the house that clouded Oranges hearing. He could only faintly make out the boys yelling, and lightly hit against the window a couple times as he was barraged with random items from inside the room.   
Usually, Orange would have been pummelling that kid by now, but at the moment, he was too concerned about how much his head ached. This wasn't normal - Spirits didn't feel pain…. Not like this, at least.

Orange groaned in annoyance hearing the thumping of feet against stairs. He hated stairs - not because he was lazy, of course, but because he didn't have legs. The male spirit took a couple deep breaths before starting to slither out into the hallway of what he presumed to be the top floor of a two story building. Orange usually liked old houses, though, he was pretty sure that was just Capos tastes rubbing off on him.   
His eye flicked to the walls of the house, where several photographs hung, depicting sweet, smiling families. The idea of living with a group of people and enjoying it…. Orange scoffed. Who ever thought that was a good idea?

Orange was about to start figuring out a way to get down the stairs without breaking anything, but soon realised he didn't have to. He couldn't have believed that he had mistaken actual footsteps for just a child throwing their shoes down the stairs - that little shit was still on this level. Taking a look back down the halls, there were only 3 doors - the room he had come out of, and two other doors that were shut.   
Grazing his tongue against his Fangs, the spirit grinned.   
This was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunt.   
> To search determinedly for someone or something  
> Or, alternatively;  
> pursue and kill for sport or food.


	7. Vincent.

Vin wished he could punch himself. How stupid of him, to have decided to hide in his parents’ room like a child, huddled up in the closet. The feeling almost gave him Nostalgia, his knees pulled up to his chest in the Fetal position. He heard the sound of something being dragged against the carpet out in the hallway, and immediately felt sick. He felt the fluids try and rise up into his throat, and gagged as he forced himself to swallow it down. His body hurt, and there it was again, but fainter - The feeling of his spine practically being on fire, and the uncomfortable scratching of his throat burning with freezing cold pain. 

Vin rubbed his throat. As much as he wanted to cough, and to vomit, he couldn’t. As quietly as he could, he pressed his back against the wall of the closet. He felt stupid for hiding here, in a closet, where the classic serial killer in all those gory, bloody horror movies would always look.

‘This is where I’ll die. Right here.’  
‘This is a dream, I’ll wake up before he kills me’

For a moment, Vincent believed himself.  
That this was just a dream, and that he’d wake up any second now, before he got too scared.  
Then, it hit him.   
He was going to try.  
He wasn’t going to wake up.  
This wasn’t a dream.  
You can’t think in dreams. 

Vin almost choked on his own breath, covering his mouth as he heard The same dragging noise enter the room as the door creaked open. Eyes darting around the confined spot, he looked for a weapon. Dad had to have something here, right? Maybe He could grab one of the clothes hangers and poke that… that Things giant, ugly eye. He did a quick scan of the room, his eyes grazing over useless items. His eyes soon focused on an item resting on top of a small box, only just hidden away behind his mothers shoe collection.   
Reaching for it, Vin froze in place as the room was swept with the soft light of the moon from the window outside.  
The door was open.   
Vin slowly turned his head towards the doorway, his eyes dragging themselves up to meet the large, dark eye of the creature that had watched him sleep. 

“There you are!”  
Vin was so preoccupied staring at the creatures shining, white fangs, that he was taken by surprise when the hand of the creature grabbed at Vins hair, yanking him out of the closet. At first, Vin felt like the large beast was going to rip off his hair completely with the force he used as he pulled Vin out.   
Vin felt himself get tossed down onto the ground like a rag-doll, letting out a pained noise and immediately reaching for his already bruised nose. He felt the hands grab at him again, latching onto his ankle and starting to drag him into the hallway.   
For a moment, Vin was sure that his assailant was going to drag him down to the bottom floor, or throw him down the stairs. But instead, he felt the creature stop.   
The hands tightened around Vins ankle, and the attacker made a quick U-turn, giving Vins lower back a sharp pain of both the sudden change of direction turning his body uncomfortably, and the burning sensation of carpet burn. 

Before he knew it, Both the creature and Vin were stuffed underneath His parents’ bed. Vin wasn’t even sure how the fit - The creature was much larger, and stockier than him. Vin wasn’t sure what was going on - His entire body ached, and his vision was blurry from tears, which he felt a tad ashamed of.   
“Stay back, away from the edge.” The creature whispered, and it only suddenly clicked with Vincent that it spoke English, which came as much more of a surprise than it did before.   
But, when you fear for your life, it’s better to follow orders than to disobey.   
As he scooted away from the edge, He rubbed his eyes, finally taking the chance to see normally. After a couple of blinks, he froze where he lay under the bed. 

It made no noise - No, they made no noise. Those eight, boney spider-like legs, seamlessly silently tracking their way across the room. They were a darky yellow, but they also seemed to be a dark red or a muddy brown - Vincent couldn’t tell. 

He couldn’t take their eyes off of them. The group of legs went still for a moment as he could hear raspy, heavy breathing. Suddenly, there was the feeling again.  
Except it was more - Much more. More intense than it ever had been. The almost-frostbite feeling in his throat, and the feeling as if his spine was being set on fire. He was going to vomit, for sure this time. He quickly covered his mouth with his hand, his vision blurring. He was going to vomit, feeling everything rise, Then, the legs caught his eyes again  
They started to scatter out of the room, and Vincent couldn’t see how it left - There were no sounds to tell.

Vincents body was frozen, and tense with shock.   
And then, his body reacted the only way it knew how to.  
He puked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hide
> 
> To put or keep out of sight.
> 
> or...
> 
> To prevent (someone or something) from being seen.


	8. Romello

The old train tracks were Peaceful this time of night. A little creepy, but more so peaceful than scary in any sort. At least, Romello thought so.   
Kicking a half-empty beer bottle, Romello enjoyed the echo of the clangs of glass against the train tracks. Taking a deep breath, The male let out a breathy chuckle as he continued to walk, letting his shoes scrape against the railings of the once-popular track. Whistling, Romello looked around the area. The abandoned train-shack had to be close, right? Head walked down this path for years, so he didn’t understand why it was taking so long to arrive to a usually 25-minute walk.

As he walked, Romello couldn’t help but think. Hadn’t he already passed that tree? The large American Sycamore with the tire swings he and Hugo had set up a couple of years back? Of course, it was, there was no question. Their initials - R.K and H.K - were carved into the side, in large letters that you could see from the other side of town.   
Frowning, Romello felt a little sick. His spine was starting to feel hot, and his throat was starting to feel cold… He couldn’t place it, but his entire body was telling him this was wrong. He needed to go home, to his Biology homework, and go to sleep on time for once.

But no.   
Romello pushed onwards, shoving the feelings of unease and sickness down to the pits of his stomach, planning on ignoring it and probably going to barf behind a tree later instead of deal with it now.  
His footsteps seemed to be getting louder due to the breaking twigs and old, crisp leaves crunching and snapping under his feet. He took a couple of deep breaths as he walked, reaching up and sliding his hand against his forehead, a bit surprised at how easily it slid. He was sweating, which was strange - He didn’t feel hot, or warm in the slightest. The temperature was almost non-existent, not warm, not cold, neither of the sorts.

His vision was getting blurry, and he felt the sickness get worse. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t drunk - That was a different feeling - Was he high? No, he hadn’t done anything in around a week, so it wasn’t that either.   
Romello felt weak as he leaned against a nearby tree. His throat was cold - He felt like someone had shoved Ice-cubes down his throat, and that someone had doused his spine in gasoline and shoved it into the sun. He couldn’t help but throw up, feeling the coldness start to melt away, but be replaced by the feeling of the familiar fluid burning his throat instead. As he stood up straight, Romello rubbed his mouth, letting out scratchy coughs.  
Looking up, he was almost shocked to see that the setting sun had now disappeared, replaced by the almost-full moon perched up in the sky. How had he been walking around out here for?  
Reaching for his phone, his hands desperately slid around his body for his phone. 

Oh.  
Oh, fuck no. Was he lost?   
Flicking his gaze around, Romello felt his heart pounding. The tree. For the first time that entire night, he couldn’t see the tree, with the tire swings and those giant letters. It had just disappeared - When he swore he could have seen it just moments ago, to his right. Or was it his left?  
He had never been lost here before, it was almost like second nature to walk down these old tracks. This had to just be some crazy nightmare, right? If he continued down the tracks, he’d end up back home eventually. Shakily trudging along the train tracks, Romello started to count his steps.  
1.  
2.  
3….   
Before he knew it, Romello had lost count at around 217 steps. He was tired, and hungry, and not to mention disoriented. Looking ahead, Romello thought he saw something - a silhouette in the distance.   
A person? Help! They could help him get home!  
Without the thought of a crazy-axe-murderer being the shadow before him, Romello stumbled down the tracks towards the silhouette.

Romello never got a good look at the man before he blacked out, but he did see one thing, one feature that would stare into him for the rest of the night.  
The mans’ two, bright, glowing golden eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kidnapping
> 
> The action of abducting someone and holding them captive.


	9. Des

Des had mixed emotions about Earth.  
On one hand, it was beautiful. She enjoyed the fresh air, the people she often looked after were nice, and the entertainment here was much better than what you could get back at her sector.   
On the other hand, she hated it. And there was only one real reason. All the spirits. The ones like her.   
Usually, Des didn't really mind other spirits - there was only one problem with it. Their Essence. Essence was the trail that other spirits left behind, and unluckily for her, Des could see it. And, if strong enough, smell it, which were usually pleasant scents, but often the smells made her feel quite sickly afterward. 

Des took a deep breath as she prepared herself. She needed alot of concentration if she was going to try and pick out one particular Essence - especially an Essence that belonged to that of someone like Orange.  
Those in higher Status knew how to hide their Essence - Des wasn't sure entirely how, but sometimes she wished that she herself could do it. It would make alot of things easier for her, she thought. It'd make avoiding 'him' so much easier.   
The purple being took a deep breath out, shutting her eye tightly.

Orange had a rather distinct Essence - Citris and Sunflowers, a strange yet oddly calming Mix….. Well, usually. There were times, much like right now, where Orange had a different Essence. One where it was Citris and Sunflowers, yes, but it was different.   
An Essence which was one that was, in a sense, loud. One of Citris, and Sunflowers, and the smell of a dead birds' body rotting. Take those smells, then throw them into a fire. That was the smell of Oranges Essence, right now.   
A smell of Anger, and Fear. A smell of someone who needed to get as far away as Otrik as possibly. 

Opening her eye, Des had to take a moment. It was strong; so strong it made her eye water a bit - It was almost like he wasn’t even trying to hide it.   
That was helpful, yes, but also worrying. If he had been so desperate to leave, why had Orange let his Essence become some strong, so noticeable, so easy to find?  
Something was wrong.   
And as Des started to float her way down the trail of Citris and Sunflowers and Dead birds on fire, she started to wonder - Why would Orange run away, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curiosity
> 
> A strong desire to know or learn something.


End file.
